Don't Die From A Broken Heart
by ExLibris3
Summary: He places soft kisses in her hair when he thinks she is asleep. Jibbs.


_A/N: Again, been months since I posted anything, but I'm trying to survive my last year in school, and when it comes to writing I'm focusing on a short-story collection I'm writing as a project for school. This is a challenge I saw months ago, started it, forgot about it. I finished it today. It's about writing a sentence to a word (originally it was supposed to be 50 words, but I only did about half), and, of course, it's Jibbs :). Most of them are set back in day during their relationship, some are during the show, and a few are post-JD. _

**_Don't die from a broken heart_**

**Kiss**

He places soft kisses in her hair when he thinks she is asleep.

**Rain**

Rain streaks down the window as she stares emotionlessly out into the streetlight lit Navy Yard that is below her, drinking bourbon and trying to convince herself he will come back.

**Death**

She is already dying, but she knows this is not the way she will go – she has always been prepared to die in the place of the man she loves, and as she draws her last breath, she knows she wouldn't have it end any other way.

**Pain**

He struggles not to wince as she gently lifts the bandages, but as her gentle fingers trace his skin, her lips presses the softest of kisses to the bandage, the pain seems a little less excruciating.

**Weakness**

The hand that holds the coffee cup is shaking, but she is too distracted by the sight of him broken and bruised in a hospital bed to notice either that or the tears that are spilled onto her cheeks.

**Name**

_"Jethro"_, his name rolls over her tongue, her voice almost husky and he imagines the sound like roughened silk; it makes him feel slightly uncomfortable because no one has said his name quite like that in many years.

**Tears**

He watches her struggle against the tears, notices her strained attempts at breathing calmly, but the moment he reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder, she breaks and he sits and holds her until she runs out of tears and his gentle whispers has calmed her.

**Jealousy**

She knows he's doing the right thing, letting go and moving on, and she should too; but when she sees him with _her_, laughing and flirting, it stings and all she can do is pretend she is not jealous.

**Cold**

She walks down the streets of Paris, a suitcase rumbling over the cobblestones, and as the cold air of the early morning seeps through her coat, a lone tear trickles down her cheek and she wonders if it is possible to die from a broken heart.

**Broken**

He knows something isn't right the moment he wakes up; later as he sits sipping his morning coffee, trying not to look at the note he'd found on her pillow, he wonders how many times a heart can break before it dies.

**Sleep**

He knows he'll be both castrated and keelhauled if he tells her, but that doesn't stop him from thinking she looks cute when she sleeps.

**Whiskey**

She shows up on his staircase after a rough case – he offers her bourbon and she hates it – smiling, he tells her it is an acquired taste.

**Wedding**

She almost smiles as she hears wedding bells sounding in the distance – closing her eyes and for a moment she imagines it is about them.

**Breathe**

She always sleeps with her head on his chest, reveling in the steady rise and fall of his chest, assuring her he is still there, still alive.

**Silence**

They can spend hours just lying together saying nothing – hands and mouths seeking and finding secret places, bodies and eyes locked together brings them closer than a thousand spoken words ever will.

**Grave**

The number of graves he visits every year just keeps increasing; fallen marines, lost family members and now he kneels next to the most recent grave, runs his fingers over the inscriptions and leaves a bouquet of roses for his former lover.

**Regret**

When darkness falls, and she lays alone in her bed, unable to sleep, she regrets leaving him because if she hadn't she may have a warm body here to cuddle up next to.

**Flowers**

She picks fresh flowers as often as she can, and carefully places them in a vase on the windowsill in the tiny Serbian farmhouse, and when she comes back to bed with him, she smells of roses, lilies, chrysanthemums and lavender, and he buries his face in her neck, inhaling the soft aroma, and smiles.

**Telephone**

Her knuckles are white from her fierce hold on the phone, her eyes sparkling with anger, her voice almost hoarse from yelling at him for several minutes, but still there's a smile playing on her lips, and she knows that he is smiling too.

**Star**

How she'd managed to convince him to join her in the cool grass he doesn't know, but as she shifts closer to him, her head resting on top of his chest, pointing out the constellations she know, he only has eyes for her and the magical way the stars are reflected in her eyes.

**Happiness**

Sitting in his lap on a tiny balcony in Paris, his fingers caressing her arm and her lips brushing his cheek, she revels in this rare, quiet moment of happiness.

**Scars**

Her eyes flutter closed as his usually roughened fingers caress the pearly scar on her thigh with a tenderness that almost breaks her heart.

**Birthday**

He takes her out on her birthday, to the cozy French restaurant she's been talking about wanting to go to since they came to Marseilles, and he watches her laugh, her eyes sparkling as he takes her hand in his and softly kisses her knuckles, and doesn't for a moment regret asking her out.

**Silk**

He never took much interest in women's underwear, but the mix of silk and lace clinging to Jenny Shepard's body makes his mouth dry and when she maneuvers herself above him, he realizes he has a whole new appreciation for silk.

**Dance**

He presses his hands into the satin dress covering the small of her back, her head resting underneath his chin and the scent of her hair and the surrounding flowers of the outdoor balcony invades his senses, taking his mind off everything else save for the woman in his arms.

**Sex**

Maybe at first, he convinced himself that this thing between them was just about sex, but when he watches her sleep next to him in their Parisian hotel, his finger gently running down the dip of her spine, he realizes that night in Marseilles was not about sex; it was about making love.

**_The End_**

**_- - - _**

_Got a favorite sentence? Please review and tell me what you think! Thanks!_

_xxx_


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